The Chesapeake Diaries Series (30 page)

“You mean, like the guy there on the front porch with the baseball cap?”

She started to turn to look, then realized he was teasing her. “Oh, you.” She swatted at him before snuggling down against his chest to listen to his heart beat.

“Ness?”

“Hmmmm?”

“We have to get up. My neck is breaking.”

“I gave you a pillow,” she murmured sleepily.

“It slid across the floor. I think it’s in the front hall now.”

“All right.” She sighed and reluctantly removed herself, sitting back against the sofa to reposition her clothes.

“Are you getting dressed?” he asked.

“Uh-huh.”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t walk through the front hall and up the steps half naked, that’s why. And neither can you. If someone was walking by …”

“And happened to be staring through your windows, they might see something you don’t want them to see.” He laughed, but pulled his clothes on.

“Right.” She stood and reached a hand down to him. “Besides, we can take them off again when we get upstairs.”

“So, I guess this makes it a two,” he said when they reached the top of the steps.

“Two what?”

“A two-night stand.”

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?”

“Well, sometimes, yes, I do.” He chuckled as they found their way across the darkened room.

“Guys say the dumbest things,” she muttered, and he laughed good-naturedly.

Later, she sat against the headboard, her knees pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped around her legs, listening to him breathe and wondering what her life might have been like if either of her ex-husbands had been a man like Grady Shields.

Chapter 16

“Are you sure you’re all right here by yourself?” Grady stood in Bling’s doorway and assessed the damage, which somehow, in daylight, looked even worse than it had on Saturday night.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” Vanessa moved through her shop with apparent determination. “Even if the person who did this was inclined to return, I doubt he’d do it on a bright sunny morning when half of the population of St. Dennis is looking for an excuse to be outside and strolling along Charles Street. And I will have the door locked.” She disappeared into the back room and emerged a minute later with an apron, which she slipped over her head and then tied around her waist. “I think I’ll start back here in the office, what do you think?”

“I think you should do what feels most natural to you. But are you sure you don’t want company?”

“I’m sure. I really want to get this over with. I want my inventory checked and I want the floors cleaned and I want my shop back. Besides, you have something to do. Aren’t you calling someone at the FBI about those fingerprints?”

“I need to check with Hal first to see if the prints they took on Saturday were submitted to IAFIS yet.”

“Tell me again what that means?” She disappeared through a curtain on the right, but came right back out again. “Well, at least the dressing rooms were spared. I thought some things might have been tossed around in there but there’s nothing.”

“IAFIS means ‘Integrated Automated Fingerprint Identification System.’ It’s a database. Law enforcement agencies can submit fingerprints, which are cataloged. Then, when they have prints they’re hoping to match up, they’ll send them in and request a search. If the prints are on file, they’ll get a confirmation with the name and criminal history of the person to whom the prints belong.”

“So, if the person who broke in here the other night committed a crime before, and his prints are already on file there in that system, when Hal sends in the prints they took here, the FBI can tell him who that person is?”

“As long as the prints are already on file so there’s something to match to, yes.”

“But if they hadn’t committed a crime before, their prints wouldn’t be there?”

“Not necessarily. If the agency that arrested him the first time didn’t submit the prints, they wouldn’t be in the system. And there are prints in the system that were submitted for other reasons—employment background checks, firearms sales, that sort of thing. So it isn’t a definite, but maybe we’ll get lucky if this guy’s been arrested before and his prints were submitted and we’ll find out who he is.”

“Well, we can only hope.” She looked distracted, so he waved a hand in front of her face.

“I’m going to walk down to the police station and talk to Hal. You have my cell number if you need me.” He kissed her on the side of her mouth and smiled at her belated attempt to kiss him back. “I’ll let you make good on that one later,” he told her as he walked to the door. “Come on over here and lock this.”

She took the key from her pocket and walked him to the door. “Tell Hal I said good morning.”

“Will do.”

Grady left the cool of the shop and walked out onto a sunny weekday morning. There was little traffic at this hour—the school buses had collected and discharged their riders and the locals who had to be at their jobs before nine were already there. But there was still a good crowd in Cuppachino as he crossed the street, and he decided to stop in and pick up a cup of coffee to go.

He bought his takeout and was on his way to the counter where the sweeteners and creamers were located, when he heard someone calling his name. He turned to see Grace Sinclair waving to him.

“Good morning.” He waved back.

“So are you enjoying our pretty little town on this fine morning?” Grace asked.

“I am, thanks.” Grady stopped at the table where she sat with an open notebook in front of her.

“Just working on my column for this week,” she explained. “Between the wedding and the break-in and the upcoming historic house tour, it’s more news than we generally have to talk about around here.”
She hastened to add, “Not that I equate one with the other, of course. The police blotter doesn’t appear on the same page as the social news, and the calendar of events is always on the back page by its lonesome.”

“You have so many events here that you need an entire page to list them?”

“We don’t simply list them. We have articles that correspond. For example, for the house tour, I interviewed the president of the Historical Society and several of the homeowners whose houses will be featured this year. All with photographs, of course, and advertisements from the merchants who might be offering special sales that weekend.” Grace smiled. “It does keep us all busy. We like to say we have something for everyone at some time during the year. Makes me wonder what we used to do around here before we became such an attraction. Now, what are you interested in, Grady?”

“Me?” He thought it over. “Well, I like to hike …”

“Then you’ll likely want to look into our marsh-and-wetlands walking tour. That’s always the weekend following the Fourth of July.” She started to rustle through a pile of notes on the table. “I have the dates here somewhere …”

“I doubt I’ll still be around in July, but I appreciate the information.” Grady doubted that even if he were in St. Dennis, a walk through some wetlands was hardly what he was accustomed to. Still, it was nice of her to ask.

“Oh.” She appeared surprised. “I was thinking perhaps … well, no matter. If you do happen to be here that weekend, you’re more than welcome to join us.”

“I appreciate that, Miss Grace.”

“I suppose you’d better go fix that coffee before it gets cold,” she told him.

“Good idea. Nice to see you.” He took a few steps away from the table.

“Oh, Grady,” she called him back. “I noticed you coming out of Bling. How is Vanessa doing?”

“She’s just starting to clean up, get her merchandise organized, see what was taken.” He added, “She’s doing all right. She was—still is—upset, but she’s just trying to get it all under control so that she can reopen as soon as possible.”

“What a shame.” Grace shook her head. “She’s worked so hard to make that shop the little gem it is. I’ve been saying since she opened, that girl is one of the hardest-working people I’ve ever known. It makes me so darned mad when I think of someone going in there and breaking up her shop and stealing from her.” She looked up at Grady. “Are there any suspects yet?”

“Not that I know of. I was just on my way down to the police station to talk to Hal.”

“Oh, you just missed him by about twenty minutes. He was in here earlier with … I’m not sure of the woman’s name. Beck and Vanessa’s mother.”

“Maggie Turner.”

“Ah, Maggie Turner.” Grace nodded. “I noticed she was at the wedding the other day. Have she and Beck reconciled, then?”

“I wouldn’t know anything about that.” Grady shook his head. No way was he going to feed into small-town gossip.

“I was just wondering. It seems like such a shame,
being estranged from your children. I have three children, Grady. Only one lives close enough for me to see on a regular basis.” A cloud crossed her face. “It isn’t easy to be a parent sometimes.”

“I’m sure it’s a tough job.”

Grace laughed lightly. “Would you listen to me? Go. Fix your coffee and get on your way. It’s a beautiful morning. Enjoy it. And walk on down to the Bay. It’s a wonder with the sunlight sparkling on the water.”

“I’ll do that,” he said. “Thanks for the tip.”

“You’re welcome.” She smiled and picked up her pen and turned her attention back to her notes.

He poured a sugar packet and some cream into the cup and replaced the lid, then waved to Carlo and Grace on his way out. It was slightly disconcerting to him that people here seemed so comfortable discussing the business—both private and public—of their friends and neighbors. Grady had never been exposed to small-town life, so Grace’s inquiry about Maggie had taken him aback somewhat. He hadn’t sensed any malicious intent on the older woman’s part, though; her questions appeared based more on concern than on gathering information to be randomly repeated and passed along, but still, it wasn’t his place to give out information about the family his sister had just married into.

From the top of Kelly’s Point Road, he could see the Bay beyond. Grace had been right. It was sparkly and beautiful in the morning sunlight. In the distance, sailboats skimmed along in the breeze, and a catamaran was just edging out from its slip. It was all very peaceful and gentle on the eyes. He’d never lived on
the water—had never considered it—but he could see its appeal.

He soaked up sun and small-town atmosphere as he walked to the municipal building and resisted an urge to whistle. It was that kind of morning.

He stopped at the reception area and gave his name and asked to see Hal. The day dispatcher, Garland, introduced himself and reminded Grady that they’d met at the wedding on Saturday before buzzing Hal’s office.

Of course we met at the wedding
, Grady mused.
Was there an adult living in St. Dennis who I did not meet at the wedding?

“Grady, come on back.” Hal waved to him from the end of the hall. “I see you stopped for coffee. A wise move on your part. I’m ashamed to say our coffee is as bad as most other police stations I’ve been in.” He shook his head. “We really need to do something about that. It’s such a cliché …”

Grady laughed and followed Hal into a conference room, and Hal closed the door behind them.

“I’m acting chief this week but I hate to use someone else’s office, so I set myself up in here,” Hal explained. “Gives me more room to spread out the morning paper and put my feet up, if nothing else.” He rolled his chair out from under the table, and sat. “That was a joke, by the way.”

Grady smiled to acknowledge the comment. “I just thought I’d stop in and see if there’s been a response on those prints that Sue lifted over the weekend.”

“I was just getting ready to call you.” Hal had a stack of papers in front of him, which he gathered in one hand. “I had Gus print out everything that came
in. We have a couple of matches. There’s no doubt in my mind that these are the two we’re looking for.”

He slid a couple of sheets across the table. “Jackie Weston here is probably the woman who called herself Candice. She was picked up on bad-check charges in Wisconsin about six months ago but didn’t serve any time, not sure why, but I’ve requested her picture, so we’re going to need Vanessa to take a look, see if that’s the woman who was in her shop. The other one, this Edmund Dent, he’s the one who has me worried. Check out his criminal history.”

Grady’s eyes scanned the second sheet. “He’s got a history, all right.” He read down the list, then glanced up at Hal. “Assault, assault with intent to kill, sexual battery … and this guy is out on the street?” He shook his head.

“This arrest for arson in Wisconsin …” Grady tapped his finger on the section he read from. “Vanessa told me that one of her ex’s brothers and a cousin burned down her house after Medford was sentenced.”

Hal nodded. “The date’s just about right. I’m still waiting for his picture. If this is the cousin, Vanessa will be able to identify him.”

“Why don’t you just call her? She’ll know the name, right?”

“I’d rather not do that over the phone.”

“If you get the pictures, I’ll take them up. She’s at the shop.”

“By herself?” Hal looked up, his eyebrows raised.

Grady nodded. “With the doors locked and Grace Sinclair sitting at the front table at Cuppachino.”

“No one’s likely to get past Gracie, but still …”
Hal got up and poked his head out the door. “Gus? How’re we doing with that picture we’re waiting on?”

“It’s just starting to come through now. You’ll have it in a minute,” the officer called back.

“You have anything you can arm yourself with?” Hal asked, and Grady shook his head no. “You licensed to carry in Maryland?”

“Not anymore.”

Hal rubbed his chin and thought it over. “You a decent shot?”

“I’ve qualified as a sharpshooter. The only person in my family who’s better is Connor.” Grady smiled. “Maybe.”

Hal left the room and came back a few minutes later with a Glock in one hand and a clip in the other. “How ’bout we swear you in as a part-time, temporary officer of St. Dennis?”

Grady raised an eyebrow.

“I know you’re … well, spending a lot of time with my girl, son. I’d like to know you’re watching her back with something more than your eyes and ears. Unless I’m way off base, this Dent is going to want to push on her a little more before he’s through. I’d like you to be able to push back.”